


Mandy

by Caro_the_Poet



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_the_Poet/pseuds/Caro_the_Poet
Summary: She fixes him with a long look, trying to judge his motivation for asking that question. Is he just trying to rile her? Or is this one of those times thatsoundslike teasing andfeelslike something else entirely?
Relationships: Richard Dean Anderson/Amanda Tapping
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Mandy

**Author's Note:**

> It's RPF; if you don't like it don't read!
> 
> This is a companion piece to the amazing starrybouquet's "-4 Degrees" story.

Amanda sighs and collapses on a chair in her trailer. She’s counting down the hours to Christmas vacation, she really is. She loves the work and the crew and her boys, as she affectionately calls Michael and Chris and Rick, but things with Rick have gotten increasingly complicated lately and _god_ she just needs a break.

It wasn’t always like this. They’d had an easy, flirty friendship since the very beginning. They genuinely liked each other and made each other laugh, and Amanda may have had just a _little_ bit of a crush on Rick because he was handsome and charming and famous. It wasn’t until after filming on the frozen set of _Solitudes_ that Amanda began to suspect that Rick might be in love with her--began to suspect that her own feelings were quickly becoming more of a problem than she’d ever bargained for. They’d flirt openly on set, laughing and teasing, cuddling and kissing; the unspoken rationale being that if they were ridiculous enough, no one would think anything of it because _Rick and Amanda are just Like That_. It was silly and fun and harmless, and it kept the gossip mill at bay. 

Five years in and it still seems to be working. But feelings are complicated things and it’s getting harder to kiss him and pretend it doesn’t mean anything; harder to feel his intense brown eyes following her and pretend she doesn’t notice. 

She doesn’t think she’s in love with him, exactly, but it’s more than a crush and more than an attraction and she has never quite been able to put words to it. 

And then there is the small matter of her six-year marriage to a man she absolutely _is_ in love with; a man who has never shown an ounce of jealousy no matter who she’s kissing on set; a man who certainly deserves better than whatever the hell _this_ is. 

_Rick is in love with Amanda; Amanda is in love with Alan; Amanda also cares for Rick A Lot More Than She Is Supposed To_ and round and round it goes in the same dizzying spiral it has for the last five years. Amanda wonders wearily where she went wrong that her personal life reads like the plot of a bad fanfiction.

She needs a distraction. With a sigh, she pulls out a VHS copy of _White Christmas_ and pops it into the VCR she had managed to procure for her trailer a couple of years ago. Nothing like Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney to soothe your sorrows. 

There’s a loud rap at the door and when she calls, “It’s open,” Rick steps through. He looks almost as tired as she feels and the emotions swirling around in her chest at the sight of him are a confusing mix of warmth and apprehension. She shouldn’t be around him when she’s feeling this fragile. But his eyes brighten and he smiles as he looks at her, as if his exhaustion is alleviated just by being in her presence. 

And, well, she can’t argue with _that_. 

“Hey,” he says casually. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Taking advantage of this short break to watch my favorite Christmas movie.” 

_“It’s A Wonderful Life? Home Alone?”_

“Nah, _White Christmas_. The _most_ classic of the classics.” 

He looks like he wants to start a debate with her about it, and she prepares to absolutely _school_ him because _White Christmas_ is practically a religion in her family and he can disrespect it at his own peril. 

When he doesn’t question it, she feels a tiny twinge of disappointment. Their good-natured arguments are much safer territory than this weird melancholy longing that’s been hanging over them for the last few weeks. 

“Mind if I join?” he asks, and she doesn’t even hesitate before she says yes. She _should_ , of course, but all the _shoulds_ have been adding up lately and she’s too tired of carrying them to care anymore. 

He sits on the end of the couch, and she’s internally debating whether or not to scoot closer to him when there is another knock on her door and Chris and Michael walk in. She grins at them, relieved to have a buffer between herself and what will almost certainly turn into Bad Choices before the movie is over. “Hey! Wanna watch _White Christmas_ with us?” 

They look exhausted, too. The rush to finish filming before the holiday hiatus has taken a toll on all of them. 

Chris grins and plants himself at the other end of her narrow couch, sandwiching her between himself and Rick, and Michael sinks to the floor in front of them with a shrug. Amanda starts the movie and all is silent except for the noises of the four of them shifting around to get as comfortable as possible. 

Amanda settles against Rick’s shoulder, and he slouches down into the cushions and drapes an arm around her. Her feet end up in Chris’s lap, and he shifts sideways, extending a leg down the length of the couch, his foot stopping just at Rick’s knee. From his seat on the floor, Michael relaxes his head against Chris’s leg and his shoulders droop as if he’s letting the tension out for the first time in weeks. 

The movie is playing and Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are singing their rendition of Sisters, and while the boys chuckle at their antics Amanda closes her eyes and tries to memorize this moment. These are the times she treasures the most, she thinks, when the world around them is quiet and she can pretend for a short time that there isn’t anything outside of this. These are the blessedly uncomplicated interludes, when they come to her little trailer and the four of them pile on her couch like sleepy kittens; they watch TV and talk about life and hoot with laughter and her heart contracts because she loves them so much, _all_ of them. 

Sometimes she forgets that they aren’t actually SG-1. 

Rick’s thumb is tracing circles on her shoulder and she steals a glance up at him because she suspects he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. He's engrossed in the movie and she watches his face for a moment, her heartbeat skipping at the sight of his contented half-smile. Eventually he seems to sense her eyes on him and he looks down at her out of the corner of his eye, tightening his arm around her just enough that she notices. She reaches up and laces her fingers through his, and it doesn't feel wrong with Chris and Michael here, too; it only feels safe and warm and familiar.

She’s so comfortable that she begins to doze off and only rouses when she feels Rick stiffen beside her and sit up a little straighter. She glances up at his face and sees him focused on the TV, his lips pressed together and his eyes sparkling with poorly-suppressed mirth. She turns to the TV, and it all becomes clear. 

_Oh dear God, no_. 

Vera Ellen is dancing across the screen in a sparkling white costume, while the chorus trills: 

_Mandy, there’s a minister handy_  
_And it sure would be dandy_  
_If we’d let him make a fee_  
_So don’t you linger_  
_Here’s a ring for your finger_  
_Isn’t it a humdinger?_  
_Come along and let the wedding chimes_  
_Bring happy times_  
_For Mandy and me_

Rick looks at her sideways with the most smug face she’s ever seen him wear, and she only glares at him because she knows he _wants_ her to make a scene and she is not going to give him the satisfaction. At least, not with Michael and Chris here to witness it. Maybe if she deprives him of his audience he will let the joke go without turning it into A Thing. 

_As if he has ever done that even once in all the years I’ve known him_ , she thinks wryly. 

When the movie ends, Michael and Chris disentangle themselves from the kitten pile and leave to get food. Amanda pulls the tape out of the VCR and is just setting it back on the little shelf under the TV when she hears Rick’s sing-song voice: “ _Mandyyyyy, there’s a minister handyyyyy…_ ” 

_Oh God, here we go._ She turns around slowly. “ _Richard._ ” 

“Did anyone ever call you Mandy?” 

The old, familiar nickname coming from his lips is too much, too intimate; and the fact that the song is an actual fucking _marriage proposal_ makes it nearly intolerable. _I’m going to literally kill him if he keeps this up_. “Just my grandmother when I was, like, seven.”

The twinkle in his eyes becomes even more mischievous, if that were possible, and he leans back against the couch with his arms crossed over his chest like he’s settling in for the long haul. “You must have been adorable when you were seven.” 

She rolls her eyes. She’s not doing this with him, not right now. 

“What were you like back then?” 

She fixes him with a long look, trying to judge his motivation for asking that question. Is he just trying to rile her? Or is this one of those times that _sounds_ like teasing and _feels_ like something else entirely? 

His face is unreadable. 

Finally she huffs and says, “I had a considerably higher tolerance for bullshit than I do right now.” 

He only grins at that response and she mentally curses his _damned_ perpetual unflappability. The sense of serenity that she’d accumulated over the course of the movie has all but drained away and she’s back to walking that exhausting, unending tightrope of flirting versus professionalism. _Why is he like this? Why am_ I _like this?_

She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Rick, as God is my witness, if I _ever_ hear you call me that outside of this room, I will shoot you with a staff weapon.” 

Rick only rolls his eyes and smirks at her. She groans inwardly.

He’s going to milk this joke for all it’s worth. 

*  
“HEY MANDY!!” Rick calls from the table where he and Chris and Michael are already sitting with their heaped plates of food. Amanda hurries across the room with her tray, praying that she can get sat down at the table before Rick _completely_ embarrasses her in front of the entire cast and crew. 

“THERE’S A MINISTER HAN--” 

She slams her tray down on the table. “Finish that sentence, Anderson. I _dare_ you.” It’s been thirty-six hours since they watched that damned movie and Rick has not missed a single opportunity to use it against her, even amid the threats of bodily harm. She’s beginning to wonder if he has a death wish, because her patience is hanging by a very frayed thread. 

“Wow, Mandy. Hangry much?” Michael quips drily, not even looking up from his sandwich. 

“ _Really_ , Michael? You too?” She sits down hard in her chair and glares at Rick, who takes an unconcerned bite of the chocolate cake in front of him. 

“You have no sense of humor, Tapping.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. 

She can feel her glare turning into a smirk. Damn him and his uncanny ability to make her laugh. “We _both_ know that isn’t true.” 

“As true as the rumor that MacGyver wouldn’t touch a gun because he blew his balls off with one.” 

“ _Richard. Dean. Anderson._ ” She tries to sound properly horrified. “We are _eating_.” 

“You sound like my mother,” he complains, wrinkling his nose disdainfully. 

“Maybe you should've thought of that before you got famous under your ‘in trouble’ name,” Chris suggests with a shrug. 

“Well, it’s not like I could go by ‘Ricky Anderson’ or whatever and have anyone take me seriously,” Rick says a little defensively.

Michael chokes on his water. 

“You got something to say, Shanks?” 

Michael wipes his mouth, cocks his head, and squints quizzically at Rick. “I’m sorry, are you implying that anyone takes you seriously _now?_ ” 

Amanda and Chris snicker into their hands and Rick balls up his napkin and hurls it at Michael, who, after five years of verbal sparring, has learned to duck. It bounces off the wall behind him.

“On _that_ note,” says Michael, getting up from the table, “I’m heading in to makeup now.” 

“Same.” Chris grabs his tray and Michael’s and stacks them with the rest of the dirty trays before following Michael from the room.

It’s just the two of them left at the table, and normally she would allow herself to feel a secret thrill about this, but today she is tired and annoyed _and sometimes Rick really does take teasing too far._ And maybe she’s allowed to feel frustrated and anxious and weary of...feeling feelings. 

But Rick doesn’t seem to notice, and when he half-sings the lines _Don’t you linger, here’s a ring for your finger_ and wiggles his eyebrows at her, she stands and picks up her tray and says, “This finger already has a ring.” She adds her tray to the stack and walks out, leaving him alone at the table. 

And if the hair and makeup people notice her red, puffy eyes when she shows up twenty minutes later, they have the courtesy not to say so. 

*

They finally wrap up the last scene and everyone is hugging everyone and the air is full of holiday well-wishes. Amanda hugs Michael and she hugs Chris (who picks her all the way up and spins her around like she weighs no more than a doll), and her eyes meet Rick's across the room. She offers a tentative half-smile. They haven’t spoken much since lunch and she feels wretchedly guilty for losing her temper. He had been obnoxious, but she had been cruel. Even so, he smiles back at her and she takes that as a promising sign. Maybe they can just pretend none of this ever happened.

In all the hubbub she loses track of time, and the next thing she knows she's sprinting to her trailer to throw her things in a bag before heading to the airport.

She's just zipped up the bag and pulled on her coat when she realizes she forgot to say goodbye to Rick. If she leaves now he’s going to think she’s still mad, which she kind of is, but he doesn’t deserve the silent treatment she’s been giving him and leaving like this would be even more cruel than the way she walked out on him earlier. 

She pauses for an agonizing minute. It's a short hiatus; they'll be back together in less than two weeks; _she's going to miss her flight if she keeps delaying_. She sets her jaw, grabs her bag, and walks out of the trailer. She can't miss her flight, no matter how wrong it feels to leave without saying goodbye to him. 

She hasn't gone more than five steps when she hears his voice.

"Amanda, wait!"

She stops and spins around, her breath catching in her throat. She half expects him to be angry, to demand an explanation, and what the hell will she say then? 

He stops in front of her and grins that boyish grin that always makes her feel warm and melted inside. "Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye? I am _offended_ , Tapping."

She’s so utterly relieved at his customary joking tone that her smile feels like it's going to split her face in half. She wrinkles her nose at him. "Well, if _you_ want to explain a missed flight to my grandmother, be my guest. I’m really not looking to be the cause of family drama this year."

“That’s fair.” He hesitates and then says, "We're okay, right?"

He looks so genuinely worried that she wouldn't have been able to hold the week’s teasing against him even if she'd wanted to. “Yeah, we’re okay. It’s just…” she gestures ineffectively and he nods because he understands. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and for once his eyes are serious and sincere. 

She takes a deep breath. “It’s okay.” She grins and smacks his arm. “ _MacUseless_.” 

He laughs and pulls her into a hug. He does that _thing_ he always does, which is bury his face in the curve of her neck; and she closes her eyes and tightens her arms around him, just for a moment. It feels, as these moments always do, like the granting of a stolen wish. Sometimes the lines between _Jack and Sam_ and _Rick and Amanda_ become so blurred she can’t tell where one version of them leaves off and the other begins.

Sometimes life imitates art in the most devastating ways. 

They step apart, and Rick reaches up and brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, so lightly that when she remembers it later she's never sure whether or not it actually happened. He looks at her with those deep brown eyes--eyes that somehow manage to look both playful and sad, and she has to look away because she _knows_ what that look means and she can't stand it. 

She takes a step back. He blinks and the moment is gone. 

"Merry Christmas, Rick."

He sighs and smiles and his eyes twinkle with their characteristic mischief once again. 

"Merry Christmas, Mandy."


End file.
